


you have my attention

by Cheesecloth



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Amélie is a Barista, Angela is a doctor, F/F, Flirting, Mentions of other characters - Freeform, Modern AU, Pre-Relationship, Romantic Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-28
Updated: 2020-10-28
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:06:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27240172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cheesecloth/pseuds/Cheesecloth
Summary: Wings of Talon cafe has a really cute angsty goth barista that tired doctor Angela starts flirting with.
Relationships: Widowmaker | Amélie Lacroix/Angela "Mercy" Ziegler
Comments: 2
Kudos: 28





	you have my attention

The world is an unfair blur that Angela has no chance of navigating through without her coffee. 

She's a doctor, so she knows that a caffeine addiction is... disastrous. It's rather obvious. But how is she supposed to get through seeing roughly thirty patients a day, reviewing each file with the attention of a hawk, and march through the hospital for hours without a heavy dose of coffee? 

Either way, she's certainly feeling the grouchy effects as she nearly breaks the cafe door open. 

The inside is pleasantly warm. The walls are pitch black, which is interesting, and contrasts well with the hanging wall plants. The seats are well-worn with returning customers that love the angsty but charming atmosphere. 

Of all the shops around the city, Wings of Talon cafe is both en route to her job and has excellent, hot caffeine. How could she ever survive without it? 

It certainly helps that the barista is a really hot French goth woman who some of her coworkers seriously think is a vampire. 

Angela's exhaustion immediately dissipates at the chance to her again. 

"My usual, if you please," Angela says. She attempts a cute wink that probably goes awry because of her eyebags. 

The French woman, Amélie, merely raises a brow, like she always does at Angela's flirty antics. 

"Sombra made your order the moment you stepped into our parlor," Amélie says with her slow, attractive accent. 

Angela flushes, "right, thank you," and hands over the exact change and stuffs a tip in the jar before shuffling over to the counter. 

"Hello Sombra; bye," Angela says, her tone already suffering before the part-time hacker could get a word in edge-wise. 

Sombra smirks and delivers a proper wink. "You're getting closer." 

Angela stirs an unhealthy amount of sugar in her coffee and huffs loudly. 

She raises the unholy coffee to her lips so she won't have to respond. Sombra leaves her be, but not without wagging her eyebrows suggestively. 

"See you tomorrow," Sombra calls out. Angela grumbles softly to herself, one hand clumsily pushing at the door. 

"Au revoir," Amélie adds. 

Angela trips and nearly spills her coffee. 

  
  


  
The next day, McCree's dumb advise is swirling around Angela's poor, worn down head. 

Last night at the ICU was hell. Four patients came in at once and somehow Angela was the only one available to deal with them. The other doctors were either on vacation or skipping the night's work with early drinks. The poor nurses who worked hours alongside her offered to buy her coffee today. 

It was a kind offer, but a very tired Angela Ziegler didn't just want caffeine. She has come to miss Amélie's sarcastic eyebrow and enchanting voice. 

So she decides that maybe it's time to listen to McCree and explicitly ask Amélie out, once and for all. 

She enters the warm cafe, her confidence building but also wrecking apart with anxiety. 

"Hey-" she starts. 

"What do you want?" a grumpy, deep, and growling voice asks. 

Angela jumps in fright. "Mr. Reyes," she stutters. 

The owner and chef of Wings of Talon crosses his arms and peers off to his right. Angela doesn't know what to do. She came in, ready to put her tired heart on the line, and get some coffee. Instead- 

"Lacroix!" Reyes growls. 

There's a worrying crash of pots and maybe some glass, and then the sharp steps of heels. 

"Salaud, fils de pute- what do you _want_ , Gabriel-" Amélie hisses. She murderously stalks towards him. 

"She's here," Sombra says easily from where she's sitting on one of the counters and juggling some spoons. Angela briefly wonders if that's sanitary, but then Amélie's intense eyes are on her. 

It's startling to see the French woman's heated glare swiftly become amused. She casually leans against the barista counter. 

"Doctor," Amélie raises her signature brow. "You're late." 

Yes, Angela _does_ indeed become a stuttering mess at this point. 

"I- w- had a long night." 

She tries not to stare at Amélie's lipstick, which is a deep purple today. She imagines- 

Angela shakes herself and settles fully at the counter. Is it her imagination, or is Amélie leaning towards her? 

"The, ah, usual again," Angela tries another wink, and then McCree's stupid suggestion of finger guns. 

It startles Amélie into a short laugh. Worth it. She hands over the exact change and sorts the usual tip into the jar. 

Amelie doesn't have to jot down her order. Sombra's already making it. Since no one is in line behind her, Angela stays at the barista counter, heart thudding in her chest. 

"So, u-uh," she struggles to get it out. Which is stupid, because she got so far already. And if McCree won't scold her for it, Satya will surely have something new to chastise her with. 

Angela digs her foot into the ground with a resolute nod and gears herself ready to ask. 

"Would you like-" 

Sombra passes the coffee to Amélie, and Angela's eyes trace the way Amélie presses her lips to it. She grins while she writes something on the cup. 

"If you were going to ask me on a date," there's a spark in Amélie's eyes, "you only had to ask. Hmm. A shame. I'll have to ask instead." 

Angela's mouth drops, and she's speechlessly handed her much-needed coffee. She turns it around and sees heart-shaped purple lips just above a phone number written in sharpie. 

"Yes!" Angela answers immediately. 

"When are you off?" Amélie rests her elbows on the counter so she can cradle her own face and stare up at the flustered doctor. 

"S-Saturdays and Wednesdays." 

Amélie winks and shakes a hand gesture by her ear. "Call me." 

They all wave at her as she stumbles out the door with a hushed, " _scheisse_." 

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, I am SCREAMING because I just found this in my drafts and I vaguely remember writing it but while editing it I was like???? Me??? I wrote THIS????? How can that be true???? Whatever writing style this is, I am soooo gonna try and get back to it


End file.
